Happy New Year to all from a sweltering Sydney oven.
I’m wilting in the heat. I find this city unbearable at this time of year. If you’re lucky enough to live near the water it would ease the pressure but the inner-city is an airless, dusty battery-hen cage.
Wishing you a joyous New Year and I’m looking forward to 2011.
Here is my comfort book.
I re-read it over Christmas in two days. Despite knowing it so well, I couldn’t put it down. Amazing how you get a slightly different angle with the characters every time. It has such a sinister, dark edge to it. Clever, wonderful Daphne du Maurier.
And no surprises as to what I’ve been doing (see Tracy Anderson DVD).
That’s my big new year resolution. Writing is such a fattening job.
If you follow my Facebook, you’ll see that I’m not a fan of the fireworks at this time of year. I’ve had a mini-rant there about the waste of money, cost to the environment and the damage to the harbour, not to mention how it frightens animals. I found several others who also hate the fireworks. How about you? Are you pro the big bangs or, like me, believe it’s fiddling whilst Rome burns?
With all the Green perceptions globally and the fears for how fragile the planet is, I’m dismayed that firework displays are still so popular. I’ve been criticised in the past for my anti-fireworks stance and told that I don’t like people to enjoy magic.
Personally, I find far more magic, splendour and meaning in a simple blade of grass than in millions of dollars polluting the night skies with transient explosions of coloured lights – but that’s just me. I’m not even a fan of going out on New Year’s Eve. The Scribe and I spent a cosy evening with a bottle of Grand Marnier and The Big Sleep. We still aren’t sure what exactly happened in that confusing, twisty movie but Bacall and Bogart are magic.
Off to try to catch some of the tiny breeze in our courtyard.
the big sleep image source